


Snow and Dirty Rain

by yeolnuts



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Genderswap, Slice of Life, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 09:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeolnuts/pseuds/yeolnuts
Summary: In their time together there were two significant things that he learned: one, admitting you’ve fallen in love was (not quite the smartest and reasonable choice to pick but also) one of the bravest thing to do; and two, staying in love was harder than anything he could ever imagine (because sometimes the person you offer your heart to will hand it back to you.)





	Snow and Dirty Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Title was from Richard Siken’s poem Snow and Dirty Rain. The plot was largely inspired by this specific verse which struck me: “this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty,” (and that I just had to incorporate there.) It was such a striking quote and I think, perhaps, each one of us has had a thought like that as some point in our life. You find the one and you know it is them, you want so much for that person to be the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with; and so, no matter what happens, you will keep on enduring because you think they are worth everything all the while forgetting that love, first and foremost, is not supposed to be painful.
> 
> Also unbetaed. Yay.

 

**First. This was the story of your impossible beginning.**

> _ and if i were to sing of love then know that i sing of you _

 

It was the peak of winter season when they met.

 

The white snow was falling idly on the background. Later, as the children would say, it would turn into a flurry that snow fairies could dance on, but for now it was still manageable and pretty albeit cold. The winding roads were covered in a thin layer of sleet, the sidewalks half made of freezing slush and weathered cobblestones. The naked branches hugged tightly by pointed crystal ice, and a blanket of melancholia was draped around everyone’s coat covered shoulders despite Christmas creeping close by. The carols and fairy lights, a limpid proof of the supposedly joyous season, were being eclipsed by the furrowed brows and red cheeked strangers that passed him by. Quiet and fast as they took large steps as, full of eagerness, no doubt, they all were to find shelter and go back under their toasty blankets and the comfort of their soft warm beds.

 

He ignored them and walked briskly, the heels of his boots crunched the snow and slush under him, towards Hideout, a semi-diner slash bar by night slash coffee shop in the morning owned by his best and only trusted friend Kim Jongdae. His brown fur lined coat flapped behind him and the thick black scarf wound tight to protect his face from the chill still smelling of coffee from that morning pressed against his cheeks as he pushed the glass doors open.

 

Above, a bell tied to the doorpost tinkled and chimed to announce his sudden arrival, and he sighed in contentment as the warmth, scent of freshly cooked food, and muted chatter enveloped him like a mother welcoming her long lost babe. This was better. It might be beautiful outside but the cold was, as always, indiscriminately unforgiving to those silly enough to go out.

 

If outside was a canvas of white and silence, within the small establishment was a different set up altogether. Yellow light illuminated the large dining area. Wooden chairs and cream table linen meshed well with the polished wooden flooring and dark peach wallpapers. The occasional teal accents like an ugly flower vase without a flower or a picture frame of various abstract painting (no doubt something Jongdae commissioned from his famously broke artist friend, Yifan,) making the place a little more put together.

 

Not including the name, Hideout was a pretty timid cafe all in all and the ambiance could admittedly merit from an improvement of the professional one but whatever lacking in decor it more than made up to the service and food. And of course the alcohol served when dinner service was over and the bar opens was always promising. Jongdae was good at this despite being a shit at interior designing.

 

He greeted the guard, nodded his head at the wide smile directed at him before glancing around again. Eyes intent on the closed door of Jongdae’s office. The light was off.

 

“Is he in?”

 

Every table there were people conversing as they dine, drink, and tried to be merry with each other’s apparent pleasant company. Hideout was not quite jam packed, but it wasn’t quite empty either. A good amount of patrons at half past eight in the evening. This was not his crowd, his being more those losts ould who submerge themselves in amber glass and gratuity. He was almost never at Hideout until it was well after eleven in the evening, late enough for supper but early for when the bar opens, and he would’ve just left, chose another time and go straight home had he not badly needed to see his friend. There was also a little worry that the snow will prevent him from going out later in the night.

 

“No,” the guard, a tall but middle aged man with brown pock marked skin and crow's feet on his eyes answers him. “Sir Jongdae left with Sir Yixing, said they’ll be back before the bar opens. I heard there was some issue with delivering the pastries for tomorrow’s service.”

 

“Ah. I see.”

 

He’d hoped to talk to Jongdae before he went back out.

 

“Will you stay and wait, sir?” the old man waves behind him, “It’s busy tonight but your table’s always ready for you.”

 

He frowned, contemplating. Perhaps he should just call Jongdae later. Yes, perhaps that would be better. He shouldn’t have gone down himself. He was about to say so when something caught his eye. 

 

“No. I’ll stay, but not at my table tonight.”

 

The guard followed his eyes.

 

“Ah, someone you know, sir?”

 

He shrugged, eyes still captivated. “After tonight, yes.”

 

It was just another cold lonely night in his own learned opinion.

 

That was, until his eyes landed on the beauty sat on the furthest corner. He walked slowly, eyes drawn and took on the visage of the unknowing figure. His sharp brown eyes slowly, interestedly, scanned the long honey legs, the methodical tapping of long fingers against a half empty glass of something pale and purple. He gazed at the prominent shape of full breasts hugged by a pastel pink petal patterned dress, up the enchanting curve of the other’s shoulder and neck visible below the messy bundle of thick brown hair on a loose braid, a little too close on the verge of collapsing.

 

He wondered idly, as his feet took a slow measured step and another and another, if this was how love at first sight felt like. Like all the breath was knocked out of him, the sound of his heart pounding fast and impossibly loud, and other interested risings occuring subtly in his body. Or, perhaps it was just a lust at first sight, a need to do something carnal and filthy with the first pretty pretty  _ pretty  _ creature he saw in that dreary diner on that lonely and cold winter evening. Something to tide away the chill creeping in his skin and the sinking feeling inside his heart even with a room full of people. The prickling feeling of loneliness.

 

“Good evening.” He heard himself say when he was a feet away. His heart skipped a beat when she turned to him. Mole on the nose, big hazel eyes, brown hair. Parted pink lips.

 

_ God, _ he thought in wonder,  _ she is the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen. _

 

“Oh! Uhm yes? I-”

 

“Everywhere else is full.” He tilted his head, saw her look around and indeed most table would appear to be occupied enough in her vantage view.

 

“I don’t see…. How can I help?”

 

“Can I sit with you for a bit?”

 

“I guess... Uhm, okay, if you want?”

 

His eyes were immediately drawn again to the lips that are pouty and delectable in the way it was red and glistening. As if she had been biting it for sometime. Drawn to how throaty and deep and seductive the voice that came out of those beautiful lips. He felt heat crept up his cheeks as a slow simmer was rising inside. 

 

_ I want her. _

 

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, leaned forward and propped his chin on his right hand. The other drummed an inane rhythm on the mantle. He watched her watching him.

 

“I’m Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun.” He smirked, angled his head in the way all other ladies found charmingly seductive. “And the pretty lady is called?”

 

“Chanyeol.” He saw her eyes dart to the left, out the windows where snow continued to fall, long fingers gripped the glass in nervousness. Up close he could see it was some kind of purple juice, perhaps another of those weird Minseok mix that tended to taste delicious despite its weird presentation. “It’s. That is. I’m P-park Chanyeol.” She whispered it softly, as if she didn’t want to say the name but saw no reason not to.

 

“Don’t like your last name? You can have mine.” He grinned impishly, words of careless flirting automatically spilling forward, tried so hard to make this woman,  _ Chanyeol, _ feel comfortable in his unexpected company. Tried to make her notice him, leave a mark.

 

_ You have to remember me. You have to know me. _

 

“No I. I should go.” She stammered out suddenly. Hand fumbled to wrap her discarded knitted scarf, blue with tiny yellow stars he noted, and leapt up her chair in nervous abandon.

 

“Hey. Will I see you again?” he called out, his hand involuntarily grabbing hers as the feeling of urgency rose. He ended up gripping the rough calloused fingers tighter than he ought to and the soft gasp she emitted was enough for his wayward manner to return. Color prominent on his cheeks he let her go. “I’m sorry I was being forward. But. You’re really pretty and I don’t want to miss my chance. I. I’d really like to get to know you Miss Park.” She raised an eyebrow at him, a small dusting of red bloomed on the apples of her cheeks and he was falling deeper. 

 

“I’m sorry I-”

 

“Will you come here again? Tomorrow morning? Or night. Whatever time suits you.  Please?” He gave her a smile, genuine in its earnestness. “I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”

 

“I.” She was staring at him, hazel eyes had softened and the golden light danced on her shiny hair as she gave a nod. “Uhm. Okay.”

 

“I’ll wait for you.”

 

“N-nine.”

 

“Breakfast it is. Pancakes and coffee on me.”

 

She gave a wary smile, her mouth moving like she desperately wanted to take back her words and he let out a breath he was holding when she merely nodded in acquiescence before putting more distance between them.

 

He watched her go. Watched her fumble by the door, take a hesitant peek back at him and abruptly turned around as her eyes met his watchful ones. Even from the distance the tips of her reddened ears were still visible and the giddy smile that pulled at his lips was welcomed, savored.

 

Outside the wind kept blowing cold embrace for every passerby and snow kissed the ground in soft greeting.

 

Winter was here to stay and yet, his heart only grows ever warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So you chased away a customer?”

 

“I did not!” He squawked indignantly. “Yah, you made me wait for hours and that’s the first thing you’ll ask? Tsk! Some kind of best friend you are. Who even told you that?”

 

“Sehun.” Jongdae’s eyebrows were knitted together. “He was quite enthusiastic to retell every bit. Did you really grab her hand?”

 

“Aish! That little gossipy pole. Why would you even believe that silly boy? And no I did not  _ grab _ her hand… I merely  _ grasped  _ it. There’s a difference, Dae.”

 

“Well, even Minseok mentioned how you chased out miss Chanyeol. What is it this time, Baek? Please tell me you’re not harassing her to be part of your little experiments, are you?”

 

He scowled at the presumption, mouth easily opened to scream his protest.

 

“I wish you’d stop calling them that. They are my exes, not  _ experiments  _ and I did not-Wait!” He blinked, gripped Jongdae’s shoulder and leaned in close.  _ “Miss Chanyeol? _ You know her!?”

 

“She’s a regular. One of our oldest customers.” Jongdae shrugged. “Come to think of it, I wonder why she’s alone she’s usually with-”

 

“Kim! Jong! Dae!” His hands were shaking when he gripped Jongdae’s and there’s a staccato of giddy palpitation somewhere in his chest that screamed vividly of hope, of surprise, of want. “Please tell me more about her. All that you know. Everything, don’t spare any details. Tell me.”

 

“...why?”

 

“She’s it, Dae.” He answered simply. “I found her.”

 

“You can’t be serious. You saw her what, three or four hours ago?”

 

“You don’t understand. I can feel it in my bones. She’s different. She’s... she’s  _ the one _ for me.” He whispered dreamily eyes fluttering close and failing to note the look of shock and dismay that crossed his best friend’s expression. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but, Jongdae, I think I’m going to marry her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Baek,” a deep forlorn sigh, “you’re only setting yourself up for a  _ huge _ failure.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Second. The middle ground was your battleground... and the verdict: you are losing.**

> _ know this, my darling, absence only makes the heart grow distanced _

 

Love was a game of losing. The more you lose, the more you win.

 

Perhaps one may have said, that if it’s with the right person one wouldn’t mind losing so much. They wouldn’t mind if what they would surely gain in return was a joy of the immeasurable kind. It was not a thought he finds himself believing, reveling in, because love was and always will be, a gamble. The only outcome when one deals with love was loss.

 

And.

 

He was someone who _loathed_ to lose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second meeting went nicer, smoother, and longer than the first. It was fascinating that in the soft ambient light of morning within a city that bustled with urgency and noise of life, he realized how different she looked.

 

Prettier if that was possible. Prettier, gentler, and sadder even though she was neither frowning nor were there visible tears pooling on her large amber eyes. The sadness was more than the conveyed expressions by outer appearance, and if he was enough of a sappy romantic, he would’ve said he knew of her melancholia for his heart could understand hers. That he was able to know this for they were one soul that had been split and housed in two separate bodies.

 

_ Why are you sad?  _ He wanted to ask her, wanted to hold her hand and pull her within his longing embrace. Let her know that she was loved, that she had him now. That she will be adored from the moon and back.  _ Will you allow me to make you happy?  _ But he voiced none of these words and instead approached with a bright smile, a pleasant company.

 

They met again at Hideout, it was the only place she agreed to meet him and he did promise pancakes and coffee. Strawberry topped pancakes for him and, surprisingly, a bacon cheese frittata for her. He wa sorely tempted to make a quip about her choice. Bacon cheese frittata. Bacon.  _ Baekhyun. _ But glancing at the uncomfortable purse of her mouth he was hesitant to do so, hesitant to break the almost calm atmosphere, instead he opted to ask her her choice of drink. Two cups of roasted coffee, black for him and two sugars with a splash of milk for her.

 

“You have quite large hands.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No, I didn’t mean-” he flushed in embarrassment, neck all scarlet and cheeks ruddy hued, “they’re quite pretty.” He amended feebly, hoped she did not take offense at his tactless observation.

 

There was an awkward silence, a hurried sip of coffee and eyes averting each other’s glances. He swore that he heard a snort behind him.  _ Sehun probably or Minseok. _ Internally he cursed himself, cursed his wayward mouth and inability to keep his thoughts to himself. He cursed the way he fumbled around her like a youth on the cusp of puberty.

 

“Do you play?”

 

“Huh?” He looked at Chanyeol, took in the way she was staring at his own fingers in fascination. He turned them over, wiggled the fingers and shook his head. He could almost hear the old melody, the feel of the keys under them. “Years ago… Not anymore.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Silence ensued once more, and just when he thought he’d ruined everything Chanyeol spoke again.

 

“I play.” Her voice was a low whisper, almost shy. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes somewhere near his right ear, but he could see the glimmer of pride in the way her eyes focused, sharpened. There’s passion there, something that made her look vibrant and it was a striking sight.  _ Pretty. So pretty… I want. _ “Usually guitar and piano. Sometimes a bit of drums. It depends.”

 

“Depends on what.”

 

“The music.” She smiled at him eyes meeting his briefly, the first since she sat opposite him an hour ago. Had it really ben an hour already? It felt too fast. Too quick for everything he wanted to with her. For her. Beside her. “I’m in a band.”

 

“Oh, and do you sing too?”

 

“Not really. My voice isn’t suited for singing. It’s untrained,” She ducked her head and he found it cute, found himself almost reaching across the table to lift her face up, to tell her  _ don’t say stuff like that, Chanyeol-ah _ and maybe press a heated kiss on her delectably pink pouty lips. He’d been wanting to kiss here since he saw her again by the front, waiting for him outside despite the cold. Clad in her brown coat, her black boots, and a black beanie that covered the redness of her ears but not the flush of her beautiful face. He wanted to kiss but that would not be good though so instead he dug his hand to his thighs and forced himself to stay rapt and focused on her words.

 

“I’m not good and our lead, she’s the best. Yixing is miles better than me and the way her voice fits with-,” here she pauses, eyes going misty and there’s a story there, one that he is not privy to, “I focus more on the instruments. Composes a bit, or tries to. They suck.”

 

“I’m sure you’re just saying that.” He winked, elated at the pinken flush on her cheeks. “You’re probably just being modest now, Chanyeol-ah.”

 

The blush that crept up her ear, so big and adorably pointy, was a sight to see.

 

_ The most beautiful woman. I want her. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Can we do this again?”

 

“I-”

 

“Just hang out  _ (until I earn your heart.) _ Sorry when I saw you last night I was just starstruck with your beauty and couldn’t help but be forward, but talking and spending time with you… it felt great didn’t it? Like we had a connection? Please tell me that’s not just me? I want to be  _ (your lover) _ friends with you.” He smiled, turned up the charm despite the nervous energy clumping on his belly.

 

“Okay, Baekhyun-ah, let’s be friends.”

 

_ Yes! _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re acting a bit odd.” Jongdae mentioned one day, his eyes the color of chestnut and hair a messed up halo of chocolate strands. “You’ve been out and about. Sehun even mentioned he saw you over at Velveteen buying cookies and you’re chipper these days. Chipper! It’s winter but Baek, you’re always smiling, and it’s-” he narrowed his eyes, “don’t tell me, are you still bothering Miss Chanyeol?”

 

“I’m not bothering her,” he snapped, suddenly irritated at the line of questioning, “we’re friends. Friends hang out.”

 

“Friends.” Jongdae snorted. “But you want more.”

 

He puts down his pencil, the lined papers rustling as he shuffled them in a neater pile, and turned to his best friend.

 

“Yes,” his eyes narrowed, “what’s wrong with that?” 

 

Admittance was simple, but the reality of it was painful.

 

He wanted more but it was clear that the woman he adored would not return his feelings. Not the way he wanted her too.

 

“Baek,” Jongdae’s eyer are filled with pity, “please stop before you hurt yourself further.”

 

He shrugged, turned back to his papers to signal the end of their conversation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ I can’t… I’ve fallen in love. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He understand that love was a game, and the verdict? He was losing. Desperately.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not that it felt like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Third. Brittle things breaks easily, and you didn’t know you are breakable.**

> _ so leave me, love me, break me, fall fall fall back in love and towards me _

 

She laughs a lot when she’s with him. Loud and boisterous, deep, and she was not afraid to show her happiness. Her mouth will be too wide while her eyes becoming mismatched as she slapped her hands to the nearest flat surface (sometimes his shoulders) in her delight. It was endearing to see and he never knew his talent in comedy until it became his mission to make her crack a giggle when they’re together.

 

Jongdae wasn’t in favor of the relationship, or the lack of it, but he liked Chanyeol well enough and he was always amiable when they’re staying at Hideout, even talking to her sometimes. He could always feel the weight of his best friend’s when he’s there though, so he took her to other places. At the park, the cinemas, museums. They went near the sea twice, back when it was too cold to stay for long and another when the sun shed her winter coat and put on the fashion of spring. Chanyeol wrote their names on the sand and made him promise to be a lifetime friend. He stupidly said yes.

 

Her laughter was always abundant but sometimes he would still hear her crying, would still see the redness of her eyes, the dark bags underneath them.

 

Those days are the worst because it was in those moments that he remembered how powerless he was to truly make her happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You left your door unlocked and,” he leaned on the doorway, “you’re crying again.”

 

“Baekhyun!” He saw Chanyeol startled from her seat by the terrace. “How long have you been here? I didn’t hear you come in.” She stood, makeup ruined and trembling shoulders, and usher him back to the kitchen. A glass of wine, half empty, still perched on the table. The bottle finished outside.

 

“Quite a bit.” He murmured, eyes on the way Chanyeol’s grip on his forearm tightens before letting go.

 

“I’m going to make tea, I need to sober up. Do you want one too?”

 

“Wait.”

 

Chanyeol looked back at him. Eyes red and hair a messy tangle. Beautiful. Just like the first time he saw her.

 

“I want to be a part of your future,” he cupped Chanyeol’s face and forced those tear filled eyes to meet his own, “Chanyeol, can’t you at least give me this?”

 

“What are you-”

 

“Chanyeol please don’t play dumb.”

 

“Baek, I don’t d-”

 

“I think I knew for certain that I loved you the first time I saw your real smile. You bought a bag of chestnuts from the old lady. Do you remember that? It was cold and no one else had bought them so she was so grateful to you that she gave you extras, and you… you were so pleased by such a simple thing. You were the first beautiful thing I’d seen in years.”

  
She stared at him, mouth agape. He swallowed, and now continuing was the hardest thing he’s ever done. “I’ve been a fool for a long time, Chanyeol, and I’ve never deserved you, but if you’ll have me- if you’ll for-”

  
She stopped him, her finger laid across his lips.

  
“You love me?” He nodded, still silenced by her touch. She tilted her head, considering this.

  
“You’ve always loved me.” He nodded again, although it’s not a question this time.

  
“Oh,” she said, and her hand dropped and she smiled and it’s sad but his breath hitched because it’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Baekhyun-ah.”

  
“Chanyeol,” he breathed, looked at her with his heart bare of all the walls he’d erected over the years, “I love you,” he breathed softly, and her smile fractured.

 

“Thank you for loving me but,” she looks distraught and you want to wrap your arms around her but you couldn’t, “I’m so sorry I can’t accept your feelings. I… I already have someone.”

 

“I already expected as much,” there’s a tightness in his throat, something bitter and hard to swallow, “well, I think I maybe made this uncomfortable?” He tried to laugh, play off the confession so that Chanyeol would stop looking so torn, but he ended up letting out a choked sob instead. He’d never cried over a breakup before, he was always the one cutting things off, and he didn’t think it would feel like this. It’s bitter and warm, the way the tears flow down his eyes to his cheeks, but no matter how many tears he spilled the heaviness of having his heart broken doesn’t seem to get lifted.

 

He vaguely recalled bronzed skin, sleepy eyes, a soft voice calling him.

 

_ Ah, perhaps this was how Jongin had felt then, too, like death came unannounced. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Fourth. Learn the shadow, the undefeatable enemy, her inescapable past. Her future.**

> _ this is the kingdom we’ve built on the wasteland of our dreams _

 

They began with this. A simple day in a park, twenty two years ago with summer just around the corner. A boy, small and fluffy haired building lumpy sandcastles. A girl toothy and plump chasing butterflies. In a little bit two pairs of big innocent eyes would meet, a spark of warm kindness would flourish minutely in their hearts. Red strings of fate would reach out, tie themselves tight and unbreakable between these two children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ “Hi!” _

 

_ “Hello.” _

 

_ “I’m Chanyeol.” _

 

_ An impatient huff. _

 

_ “Well? Your name?” _

 

_ “K-Kyungsoo.” _

 

_ “What are you making Kyungsoo-yah?” _

 

_ “Castles.” _

 

_ A beat of silence. _

 

_ “Uhm. Y-you can play with me…if you want?” _

 

_ “Yes! I’ll help you make a lot of castles Kyungsoo-yah.” _

 

_ “We have to make them so big that we can live in them.” _

 

_ “Okay. You’re the king and I’ll be your queen, deal?” _

 

_ “Deal!” _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They ended like this. A quiet day in a park, twenty two years later with winter around the corner. A man, small and clean shaven refusing to look at his companion. A woman, tall and teary eyed on her knees, begging. Two hearts tied together, locked up and strings of fate tangled together forcibly cut by the miscommunications and unsaid words. Broken by second guesses, by an inexplicable fear, by the multitude of emotions that consolidate into being perpetually and irrevocably in love but was mistranslated into something different. Morphed by the twisted monsters called fear and doubt and insecurity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ “Chanyeol…. I have to go.” _

 

_ “W-what do you mean go?” _

 

_ “I enlisted and I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” _

 

_ “What? Kyungsoo, why-” _

 

_ “I’m leaving you. We’re done. This-” _

 

_ “What?! What do you mean done? Kyungsoo, what do you mean done!?” _

 

_ “Goodbye.” _

 

_ “KYUNGSOO!” _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The golden middle. The twenty two years in between that first mirrored smile and that first terrible goodbye, wherein two hearts inevitably beat faster, feelings became overwhelming and words were stuttered out in adoration, in promise, in anger, in regret, and in, most of all, pure unadulterated love. The story of the shared middle in which he, the one who tripped and got lost in their tangled web, the one blindly and desperately yearning for her love, was most puzzled with in the end could be summarized in the one letter she had written.

 

A letter addressed to no one and no doubt for no one else’s eyes but her.

 

Nine lines that summarized the journey of heartache and love. Nine lines that she had written when her tears had stopped falling, when her wounds had stopped bleeding, and when her mind had stopped reeling, about one Doh Kyungsoo. The only man that Park Chanyeol will ever love. The one who left, who hurt and broke her, but also the one whom she’d wait the rest of eternity for.

 

The one he, Byun Baekhyun, could never replace. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ and if i were to sing of love then know that i sing only of you _

_ the gift of shared happiness and the pain of heartache by your side _

_ know this, my darling, absence only makes the heart grow distanced _

_ it doesn’t kill the love you have nurtured inside you _

_ so leave me, love me, break me,  _

_ but fall fall fall back in love and towards me _

_ i will keep welcoming you in my arms for this is, this is everything that we have _

_ this is the map of our hearts, the landscape after our cruelty _

_ this is the kingdom we’ve built on the wasteland of our dreams _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Lastly, regrettably, in the silence of her absence murmur your unspoken goodbyes.**

 

One day when the snow had long melted away and the dirty unforgiving rain had stopped feeding the land anew, when the leaves start to curl into green and brown and when the sun start to shine its brightest leaving a browning trail on freckled dotted expanse of skin, another chapter continued. One day a man rugged and scarred would approach a woman fair and scarred. Red strings of fate would shyly, tentatively unwind from their hearts, testing the waters before intertwining once more. Stronger. Tighter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Chanyeol.” The man would call out in a hoarse low voice. Thick brows furrowed in concentration and black horn rimmed glasses perched securely on the bridge of his nose he would bite his lips in desperation clouded hesitancy. He wanted, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

 

“K-Kyungsoo!?” She would call out in surprise, chair would scrape loudly against the floor as she stood immediately, body coming to attention at the familiar man. Her eyes went wide and mouth fell open and it was a scene too picturesque, as if in a movie, that his throat clogged up. She would forget him sat by her side, him that aided her journey to heal her battered heart despite his own heart getting wounded by everyday that she didn’t return his love, him that now watched these two sad and broken lonely people finally finally finally found and return to their missing half.  “Is it really you? When did you get back?” Surprise colored her tone, and beyond that was the well of fear and he thinks he could relate. A little.

 

“Yesterday.” The man answered, one of his hands rose as if to hold her, as if to touch, before it fell limply at his side. “I came back yesterday.”

 

“Oh. I see, that is good. Have you been well?” She’s trying, but he could see the tremble from miles away. “I. Uhm, why ar-”

 

“Chanyeol, can I… Can we… I...” The man would not even glance at him, round brown eyes only trained on her face, drinking her in greedily. He knew the feeling, he still watched her like that sometimes. All the time. The feelings, after all, may dull after a time but they never completely fade away. Not when he would feebly push and then stupidly hold on to them. Unwilling to let go. Fearful of doing so.

 

_ She was. She is. Was. Was the one. _

 

“Yes?” She would whisper, lips trembling as her eyes pooled with unshed tears.

 

_ She looks so beautiful. Truly… If only we… If only I was a little early… Perhaps. _

 

“I wanted to come home to you.” He heard the man say. Voice naturally deep though it sounded desperate in his ears, almost as if the stranger was afraid she would cast him away. “I wanted to see you first but I was afraid and stupid and I hurt you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Chanyeol.”

 

“Kyungsoo, what are you saying?”

 

“Please, Chanyeol, I don’t want to lose you ever again. Our time apart made me realize that there can be no one else I can give my heart to. W-will you take me back, Chanyeol? Please, I’ll give you anything just please. One more chance.”

 

_ What’s there to be scared of? You can’t lose someone when you hold their heart... If she’s happy, _ he would think as he watched Chanyeol ran to Kyungsoo’s arms, watched him stood on his tiptoes just to hug her tight as if never willing to part once more.  _ If Chanyeol’s happy, I’m happy.  _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ If she’s happy… then I’m also…  _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Liar. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer was there to stay and yet, his heart only grows ever cold.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic's noticeably half-finished coz i'm (actually a lazy writer and won't write anything above 5k) considering writing other parts that involves other characters mentioned in this AU. Eh, but idk gimme time and inspiration first.


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